


Two Types of Pressure

by sadwyvern



Series: Gravity [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Earthborn (Mass Effect), M/M, Mass Effect 3, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Trans Male Character, Vanguard (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9412781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadwyvern/pseuds/sadwyvern
Summary: Commander Scott Allen Shepard has always been stubborn, but he's got people to remind him of his own mortality.





	

            Mid-battle pain was a familiar concept for Scott Shepard. Dodging bullets in a firefight wasn’t always as easy as portrayed in the movies, with sick action sequences and slow-motion cuts. As he dropped down to avoid a spray of bullets aimed for his head, he could almost compare it to the chaos of a middle school food-fight- with the exception, however, of exchanging rounds instead of half-ill food bought with an ever-dwindling education budget.

            “Shepard! A little help over here!” The frantic harmonics of his friend Garrus snapped Scott from his musings, his head whipping around and spotting the turian sniper crouched behind a large crate, taking heavy fire. His heart dropped into his stomach when he spotted the distinct hazard symbol pasted on the side.

            “Garrus!” The man hollered, scrambling to his feet and ignoring Kaidan’s worried shout from behind him. Holstering his weapon and making a break for it, the commander could hear bullets whizzing around him as he bolted his way through the battlefield, dodging debris scattered by their firefight. Sliding to a stop beside a nearly-crumbled column, he withdrew his assault rifle and locked on the bastards aiming for his friend, firing off a series of rounds rapidly into their barricade and spooking them into hiding.

            “Vakarian!” He snapped at the turian, not taking his eyes off the outcropping. At the Commander’s shout, the sniper flew past him, taking the spot the soldier had left unattended. As Scott turned to check Garrus was safe before saving his own hide, the metal crate only a few feet away exploded in a shower of metal and fire, the shockwave toppling the man completely over and sending him skidding across the concrete. He could hear the frantic yelling of his teammates, but their voices seemed distant, and when a hand wrapped around his arm and dragged him behind cover, he was already slipping away into unconsciousness.

            Scott came to slowly, gradually becoming aware of the state of his body, which was, as he snapped awake to realize, being carried.

            “Fucking- put me down right now, oh my God-” The man yelped, gloved hands flailing for something to grab. He heard a grunt above him, and the arms beneath his shoulders and legs shifted, causing the Spectre to squeak in alarm. It was only the chuckles of the turian carrying him that snapped him out of his frenzy.

            “Spirits, Shepard, I’m not going to drop you.” The sniper commented wryly, glancing down at the armoured man.

            “I have legs, jackass, I can walk!” Scott snapped back, eyes trained on the ground, an impact seeming all too likely.

            Kaidan shot him a look from the turian’s side. “You’re injured, Commander. Besides, we aren’t far from the Normandy. You’ll be fine for a few minutes.”

            The Spectre shifted once more in his companion’s embrace. “Sure, yeah.” He mumbled, not at all put at ease by the other man’s assurance.

            The walk back to the ship was silent, both Garrus and Kaidan sharing an unspoken worry over Scott’s condition, while the man in question tried not to fidget too much in the turian’s hold, should it give out from under him. The ache from the blast had finally caught up with him, and he found himself gritting his teeth and wrapping his arms around his ribs, which seemed to radiate more pain than anywhere else. Thankfully, he mused, nimble digits catching and prying free a metal shard that’d likely been lodged from the explosion, his N7 armor took the brunt of the explosion, and he’d likely be left with heavy bruises and scrapes, but nothing worse.

            “We’re here.” Kaidan’s voice prompted Scott to glance up, and with a rush of relief, the Normandy came into view, previously hidden by the thick concrete walls of the facility. The man began to jog ahead, shooting the two a look over his shoulder as he did. “I’ll get Chakwas.”

            The turian nodded, and continued his slow trek towards the ship, careful not to jostle Scott. As soon as Kaidan was out of earshot, he glanced down at the man in his arms. Thankfully, having known Garrus for as long as he had, Scott had gotten rather adept at discerning the man’s expressions, and he looked- concerned?

            “How long have you been wearing it?”

_             Shit. _

            “Wearing what?” The man played dumb, shooting Garrus what hopefully appeared to be a convincingly confused look. When the turian continued to pointedly stare at him, he sighed, leaning back against his armoured chest.

            “It’s not a big deal, man. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

            “That wasn’t what I asked, Shepard.” The turian responded, shifting the Spectre in his grip as the two approached the hatch to board the Normandy.

            “Garrus, I-” Before he could speak, the doors slid open, and the turian stepped inside the chamber, allowing the doors to close behind them. He remained silent while EDI went through depressurization protocols, and the two made their way inside the ship, he spoke up again. “I’m-”

            “Commander Shepard.”

            “I’m screwed.” The man groaned as Karin Chakwas made her way around the corner, tailed by a very, very concerned Kaidan.

            “Look, I can explain-” The Spectre started, only to be cut off.

            “Not a word.” She stared him down. Meeting eyes with Garrus instead, she heaved out a sigh. “Medbay. Now.” The turian nodded wordlessly, following the doctor through the ship, Kaidan still following behind.

            “Commander?” Kaidan queried, eyes hopping from the silent doctor and back to Scott, eyebrows furrowed. The man sighed before wincing at the pain in his ribcage.

            “It’s- complicated.” He said lamely, voice strained.

            “I don’t know how much more simple I can make it, Commander. We’ve talked about this, and you completely disregard everything I say.” Strolling into the medbay, she pressed a hand against her forehead and sighed deeply. “Lay him down, please.”

            Garrus hurried to do as asked, trying to avoid becoming the next target of the woman’s shouting. The jostling, however, re-awakened the pain in his body, and Scott hissed through gritted teeth as his ribcage throbbed violently in protest.

            “Take it off.”

            “Pardon?” The Spectre responded in a strained voice, sitting up to wrap his arms around his abdomen.

            “Look,” Dr. Chakwas sighed, scrubbing her face with a hand. “Since you clearly won’t listen to me, maybe they can convince you.” She gestured toward Kaidan and Garrus, who both looked confused and slightly uncomfortable.

            Scott grumbled quietly under his breath, but did as asked and began to remove his armor. As each piece of the N7 set thudded to the floor, he straightened his back, free of the heavy metal. As he pried off the last piece, he paused, left in only his undersuit.

            “Your shirt, Commander.” Chakwas prompted. Scott shot her a dry look and relented, removing his top, giving the trio a view of his scrawny upper body, covered only by a light gray binder.

            “Jesus, Shepard…” Kaidan breathed, while Garrus let out a distressed keen.

            His binder had dug into his shoulders due to the weight of his armor, leaving them covered in red marks that looked incredibly painful, and if the man’s tensed jaw was any indication, they stung as bad as the two men thought they did, if not more. His upper body was also heavily littered with bruises, and a few scrapes, but the most noticeable feature wasn’t the bright-red side effects of his binding, or the fallout from the blast, but how tightly his chest seemed pressed into the binder, making it look far too small, and not at all healthy.

            “His binding is having a severe effect on his ribcage and chest. He could break a rib and puncture a lung with the pressure.” Chakwas murmured from beside Garrus, looking troubled.

            “It’s fine, Doc.” Scott forced a smile. “I can take a bit of pain. I get shot at every day, this is nothing.”

            “Binding for too long like this could cause serious damage, Shepard You need to let your body rest.” She stressed.

            “What am I supposed to do then? Surgery would put me out of commission for too long, and someone has to make sure the galaxy doesn’t blow itself the hell up, and you’d have to shoot me before I went out in a- a  _ bra _ .” He spat the word out like bad medicine.

            As Karin opened her mouth to argue further, Kaidan interrupted, sounding exhausted. “Let’s just... focus on right now. We need to get him checked out, we can decide on something later.”

            Chakwas moved to hover over the man, patiently prompting him to go through a series of movements and stretches as she checked him for any major injuries. As the two went through the routine, Kaidan felt talons rest on his shoulder, momentarily startling him. Garrus’ mandibles shivered as his eyes flickered over to the duo.

            “I’m not exactly familiar with this, or human anatomy in general.” He spoke, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “You should probably handle this.”

            The man nodded. “I’ll take care of him.” He assured the fidgeting turian, who was promptly out the door, likely relieved to not have to deal with the delicate situation.

            He was drawn back by Chakwas’ authoritative tone. “You need to let your body rest. I’ll talk to Joker and have him bring us into the Citadel, the crew can handle everything while you recover.” She handed the man the top half of his undersuit, shooting him a stern glare. “You’re under doctor’s orders to take your binder off as soon as you get to your quarters, and  _ keep it off. _ Understood?”

            Scott grumbled something vaguely affirming, bending over to scoop up his scattered N7 armor. Standing, he made his way towards the door, instead finding Kaidan intercepting and giving him a look. He shot the older biotic a glare, but begrudgingly handed him the weighty armor. Without preamble, they headed for the ship’s elevator, and were on their way to Scott’s quarters.

            The Commander Shepard hunched over beside him seemed a poor imitation of the one he’d known prior the destruction of the first Normandy over Alchera. The bags under his eyes, which before were mere wisps, looked dark enough to be considered bruises, and the optimistic little grin Kaidan had grown fond of was replaced by a perpetual frown. It seemed almost as if Cerberus had drained all the life and energy from the man, but he knew it was really the pressure getting to him. Garrus and Tali had briefed him on everything that had happened after Horizon, and he’d been taken aback by just how resilient the Commander was.

            Even before the catalyst with the mission to Eden Prime, Scott had been though his fair share of trauma. Kaidan had read the man’s psychological file, and what he’d found seemed a half-assed summary.

_             Despite extensive trauma growing up, and after Akuze, Shepard shows no symptoms of PTSD or any concerning mental habits or illnesses. Deemed in good health for duty. _

            In retrospect, the clean verdict wasn’t at all surprising. The higher ups would do anything to keep their little poster child, but he and the rest of the crew knew better than to believe some doctor no doubt bribed by Alliance brass. The SR-1 crew had seen the distant look in his eyes and the shaking in his hands when he’d boarded after running into the Thresher Maw trap.

            The elevator door opened with a sharp  _ whoosh  _ before them, startling Kaidan back to reality. Scott huffed out something like a laugh at his jolt before strolling up to the door and opening it, waving to the other biotic. Kaidan strolled inside after him, pausing. “Where do you want me to put this, Commander?”

            Scott snorted. “‘Commander’? How long have we known each other? You can use my first name.”

            “Just following protocol, sir.”

            Scott rolled his eyes, taking the N7 armor from the man and, with a sweep of a hand to brush everything to the side, promptly dropped the set on his desk. As he bent to retrieve the cleaning kit he always stored under his desk, Kaidan realized something.

            “Pardon me, Commander, but didn’t Chakwas tell you to take your binder off?”

            Scott paused. “Chakwas means well.” He said after a moment. “She just… doesn’t get it.”

            “What is there to get, Commander? You’re putting yourself in serious danger.” The older biotic spoke, voice rising slightly in annoyance. Scott sighed.

            “Look,” He stood to face Kaidan, fiddling with the cleaning kit as he spoke. “I know it’s not healthy. I get it, but when you spend your whole life looking in the mirror and seeing something you hate, then being able to fix that something, even if it’s only for a while… it’s hard to go back.”

            Kaidan felt a rush of sympathy for him. He’d been forced into the role from the start, an unwilling hero in a narrative that seemed to have no end, and he tried. Scott was crumbling under the pressure of an entire galaxy, and it was brutal to watch. They could all see the slowly darkening bags, the thinning frame, the slurred words and hoarse throat from long nights.

            The entire crew knew of the nightmares. Though it was never spoken aloud, they’d all heard the yelling from their Commander’s quarters far too many times to believe otherwise. They’d all seen Scott in the ungodly hours of the morning, when only the skeleton crew roamed, nursing coffee and staring at nothing.

            The only man who could stop the Reapers was buckling under the weight of his gravity, but unlike the rest of them, Kaidan wasn’t planning to sit by.

            “Scott.” He said softly, approaching the man and taking the kit from his hands, resting it on the desk. Scott kept his eyes low, his tense body falling slack as exhaustion took hold. “Do you have anything else to wear?”

            “Yeah.” Scott mumbled quietly, slipping past him and heading for his cabinet. After rifling through it, he made his way into the bathroom and shut the door. Kaidan sighed, before opening up the cleaning kit and beginning to check the helmet for any lodged debris, intending on making himself useful.

            He’d just finished scanning it when the bathroom door slid open and Scott padded out, looking startlingly small in only a pair of light gray sweatpants and a plain black shirt. His hair, normally fluffy and side-swept, looked a little disheveled, and he had his arms crossed over his chest self-consciously. Kaidan found himself flustered by how small and… adorable he looked.

            “What?” Scott asked, giving him a hesitant look when the older biotic said nothing. Kaidan swallowed and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

            “Nothing, Commander.” Kaidan forced out. “I’d better get back to my station.”

            Scott looked uncertain, but dipped his head in a polite nod, and Kaidan tried his hardest to look casual as he speed-walked from Scott’s quarters.


End file.
